PREVIEW
... pt the rhythm of Miles’ footsteps. Each step deeper into the [Dark Forest] peeled back another layer of unreality. Stories didn’t just echo here. They bled, dripping from leaves like dew, seeping from the trees as ink.
Miles walked with his katana in hand, but it felt like holding a pen more than a weapon.
The air around him shimmered faintly, a distortion he had come to associate with the pressure related to a Story. [The Crawling Chaos] wasn’t present, but it was active. Watchi ...
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